Lately I’ve been trying to get myself to run. Lordy only knows why.
I don’t enjoy pain nor do I relish the miseries of inflicting even more misery on myself even if it’s in the name of good health. I’ve known lots of runners and most of them struck me as being pretty sensible and sane folks who, for reasons unknown, really do enjoy running and even look forward to it. I don’t really know why unless they have a secret masochistic streak in them. They claim it’s a pleasant way to get your exercise in and perhaps for them it is. But what’s good for me is a more leisurely and thoughtful pace in life. A life that’s permanently stuck in first gear. I’m not in any hurry so why run around as if I were? Leave the rat race for rats I say.
But seriously, I really am trying to get myself to run and trying is the operative word here because I’m just not very fast nor can I hold out for more than a mile or so. But wish me luck folks. Perhaps one day I will discover the secret to happy running, if there even is such a thing. I suppose even artists need to stay in shape too. And being able to run fast can be a mighty handy skill when the Huddle House opens up and they have their pancake special going.
